Under The Influence
by Apeygirl
Summary: Set around late season five. Clark and Chloe are PLAGUED by those pesky red rocks wherever they go.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a silly little fic to play around with the Red K. **

**Author's note: Set roughly around late season five. My favorite time. No Chlimmy, No Clana. Just a lovely window of possibility for Chloe and Clark.**

Clark kicked at some dirt, then he leaned down and punched a hole, digging in. "Come on," he muttered. "Never when you need it... Can't find one stupid..." He'd already been to the bottom of Crater Lake with no results. He wondered if a fish had gobbled it up. He hoped the thing developed a serious illness. He'd tried the woods next because he was not about to go into the sewers of Smallville in search of the other one.

And it was all Chloe Sullivan's fault that he was in this mess in the first place.

It had happened last week. Twice last week, to be exact. Of course, it seemed longer ago than that... or not. He wasn't sure. He'd replayed the moments in his mind so many times, he wasn't sure if he'd worn them out or kept them fresh.

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

The first time, he'd been helping Chloe get her car out of the mud when he slipped, falling into the deep tire track, right on top of a little something red, pointy, and just a little glowy. Not that he saw it at the time. He just stayed down there, a little dazed and with the slight feeling of something poking his shoulder blade.

Chloe got out of the car. "Clark, are you hurt?" She shook her head. "Stupid question. What happened?"

"I slipped," he heard himself say. It wasn't something that happened a lot, so he took a moment to adjust to that and to all the damned... feelings. There was this rush of hot embarrassment, then this anger at Chloe for dragging him out here in the first place, then this almost unbelievably huge craving for a ham and cheese sandwich... and on potato bread with thin-sliced pickles and crushed up potato chips jammed into it.

That wasn't surprising. He'd actually been thinking of just that before Chloe called him, though now the sandwich seemed like the answer to all of life's questions.

What was surprising was that his best friend, who he just pushed out of a muddy roadside, was laughing at him. The anger pushed the sandwich slightly back in his mind. But only slightly. "Something funny?"

"You slipped," she giggled, then snorted slightly. "You almost never slip, so..." She laughed harder. "God, the look on your face is just..."

He narrowed his eyes as she devolved into wheezy squeals. "Yeah? Well this is your fault. If you hadn't got yourself stuck..."

"Oh, Clark. It's just a little mud... all over you," she finished shakily, bending over him as she was taken with another fit. "You even have a little mud goatee. God, I wish I had a camera or..."

He'd had enough. He grasped her arm and tugged. "See how you like it," he muttered as she landed next to him.

"Hey!" She sat up and pushed at his shoulder. With how slippery it was, he fell back slightly. "I'm wearing a new blouse, you idiot!"

"So I guess it's not so funny now," he said, pushing back. She, of course, fell all the way down, mud caking her hair. But she still came up swinging... or pushing.

"It's different for you. You're wearing ripped jeans and that stupid jacket." She pulled her blazer open. "This is one hundred percent silk and cost me a week's pay."

He smirked. "Well, that'll teach you to..." He lost all words in a second, nearly hypnotized by that blouse. It was light green and a little thin and splattered with mud and rainwater. Of course, it wasn't the stains that had him so stupefied. It was the nipples. It must be cold out. He could never tell. Maybe he should use Chloe's nipples as a reference point on these things from now on. They could replace that sandwich as the answer to all of life's questions...

"... and it's not my fault you fell. I called for help, which I am owed for every single time you came to me for research and... Are you even listening?" She crossed her arms. That wasn't nice of her. He wasn't done looking.

He looked up at her red face and narrowed eyes. "I'm listening," he mumbled. He suddenly smiled. "I guess you're right, Chloe. I'm sorry about pulling you down." He opened his arms. "Hug on it?"

She looked warily at him. "Is this some trick before you give me an impromptu face plant or..."

"Of course not. I'll even buy you a new blouse. I probably owe you a few with all you do." He tilted his head and opened his arms wider.

"Oh... Well, okay then." She finally leaned forward and uncrossed her arms. He snatched her to him, pulling her against his chest.

Seeing nipples through a thin blouse was great, but feeling them... "That's nice," he breathed, running his hands over her back under the coat, pressing her closer. "Very nice." He wondered if he could get her bra undone without her noticing. He wondered if she'd mind if she did notice.

"Uh... Yeah. Hugging's nice and all, but we should get out of this..." She started to pull back, but he held tight. He couldn't have that. He hadn't even figured out where her bra clasped. He should probably get under her blouse and feel his way.

"Relax," he said in her ear. She shivered and her hands tightened on his shoulders. No. She wouldn't mind. Chloe was a real sport about helping him out. And he needed help really bad right now. He let his lips graze her ear as he whispered "We just don't hug enough."

"I... guess not." Her voice was shaky. Maybe he could get more than her bra off. Maybe... "Clark, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" he hummed against her neck. He stiffened slightly as he realized he was kissing her neck. _Oh, why not?_ He pressed his lips against a sweet little spot just under her ear. "We just don't kiss enough," he murmured before lifting his head, finding her lips blindly. They felt nice, too. All soft and slightly parted, wet just on the inside. He let his tongue dart in to feel. It was even softer and wetter inside. He hummed in the back of his throat, trying to feel a little more, but there was just... air.

"Clark, what's gotten into..."

"Shh!" He opened his eyes, meeting her wide, green ones. "Chloe, don't ruin it." He leaned in again, but she pulled back further. She would probably fall backwards again if his arms weren't still at her back.

"Ruin... what exactly?"

"Um... this moment?" He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to say. He really just wanted to get back to that mouth. Maybe that bra, too. Maybe then he could... In the middle of all the maybes, he leaned in again.

But she was gone. He wondered if super speed could be transmitted orally before he realized his arms were slick with mud and that she was on the ground, stumbling to her feet and running away through the trees. "Chlo...eeee?" he finished on a breath, feeling suddenly heavy and wet and absolutely disgusting.

He stood, shaking the mud off and taking off after her. What was her problem, anyway? He was only doing a little... kissing. He stopped, swallowing hard. And groping, too. Had he done that? Or had he just tried to?

He sped after her again. He had to explain.

Explain how?

Well, that part was hazy, but he had to do something.

When he reached her, she was at the edge of Crater Lake, her fist balled, moving outwards, then dropping...

He reached her, panting slightly. Panting wasn't something he did often, so he took a moment to adjust to the feeling. It was very... dehydrating. "Chloe... What..."

She turned to him, panting as well. "Don't worry, Clark. I... I got rid of it."

"Huh?"

"The red kryptonite." She turned back to the lake. "At least I hope I threw it far enough." She turned back to him, suddenly grasping his face. "You okay?"

"I'm... uh..." Well, he was feeling a little woozy at the moment. That and she was standing a little close. That felt a little... nice. He relaxed, feeling a little warm. "I'm good," he breathed, falling into her slightly. She really did have the softest lips...

"We have to get away from here," she said, grasping his arm as she moved away. "It's still affecting you."

He let her lead him through the trees, his eyes on her back... Well, not her back. She really did have the roundest...

She turned, then. They were back at the car, surrounded by mud. "Far enough," she gasped. She peered up at him. "How you feeling?"

Hard was probably the wrong answer. Red kryptonite could come and go, but its effects were not so easy to brush aside. Especially when her lips were slightly swollen from... the mud. He glanced down at it. Being out from under the influence brought with it a certain amount of perspective, but it did nothing to get rid of the memories. he wondered if he'd gotten even one clasp on her bra undone. Now wasn't the time to ask, considering she'd just saved him form a fate worse than... What, exactly? "Uh... I'm all better," he choked out. "Yeah. Good thing you saw that rock there. I mean, I might have... uh... yeah... And that would have been..." _awesome?_ "Wrong," he finally finished.

She nodded, pursing her lips. "Smallville's just so riddled with these damn rocks." She shook her head. "We'll have to keep our eyes peeled."

He nodded dumbly.

"Okay." She smiled and clapped her hands. "Crisis averted. Should I ride you or..."

"Yeah..." _Ride me. That would be... Oh, __**give**__ me a ride._ "Uh... I mean no." He tried to smile. "I'll go faster my way, besides I should really get a shower." _A cold shower... And a sandwich._

She shrugged. "Makes sense." She started to the car, then turned back. "Oh, Clark. You don't owe me a shirt. I'm sorry about the mud."

He tried for a light-hearted smiled. "It's cool."

But it wasn't cool. Not at all and he realized it over and over in the five minutes he stared at the empty space her car left.

Chloe was single. He was single. There was not a single thing stopping... things.

What the hell was he going to do?

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv SV SV SV**

Apparently, scour the forest for a red rock. Because he couldn't just... Well, he couldn't. He had to find one. And not the one that was somewhere in the sewers. He hadn't reached that point... yet. But it did dangle in the back of his mind. A very tantalizing... and fairly disgusting thought.

That had been from the second time...

**More to come…**


	2. Chapter 2

_And here we are with the next! Thanks so much to __**CoolNick44, DJKM1980, ChemicalButterfly,**__ and __**lillypo**__ for the kind words. _

**Chapter Two**

So the woods were a bust. But there had to be something somewhere. Maybe a jewelry shop.

"Yeah," he said, nodding to himself, speeding towards town. That would narrow things down. There were red rocks in jewelry all the time. The class rings. That necklace on that slightly skanky chick with the great legs. Even Alicia had given him a necklace with... Well, she had made that, hadn't she? Still, jewelry could be the answer.

The last time it had been jewelry…

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

The last time, they had been at a flea market. It had been a few days. He'd put it in perspective by now. He was glad she'd got rid of the rock. Yes. Glad and not at all disappointed that she hadn't waited... about five minutes. Maybe ten. Or twenty.

He followed her now as she meandered around tables in the church basement, muttering to herself. "More like a garage sale," she said, turning back to him. "You can't just bring whatever junk's in your house and call it a flea market sale. I mean, where's the quality? The homemade crafts?"

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"I'll know when I see it. I mean, Dad's birthday is next week and I just don't feel like doing a tie. I want something special."

He'd already been following her around for an hour. Despite all the junk, she stopped at every table, scrutinizing everything. He wanted to tell her to just leave and buy a nice wallet, but he didn't want to rock the boat. She was only with him now because he offered to take her in the truck in case she bought something really big.

She'd been a little weird with him these last few days. He figured it was because of the mud - or what could have happened in the mud. She completely avoided him the first day. And the second day, she jumped every time he was close. That was kind of hard because he was wondering... Well, not wondering. He was _obsessing _over whether it could happen again.

Of course, he could think of no way to bring this up. He was just sort of hoping he'd get close and maybe she'd get close and maybe they'd just... get closer.

But he couldn't just do it. What if she laughed or got angry or pushed him away? He remembered the mud. She hadn't kissed him back. She'd just let it happen, then stopped it, then ran off. Sure, the two of them had been close to this point a few times before the mud incident, but maybe they'd moved so far into the friend zone and there was just no way that anything involving lips and nipples would ever happen again.

And that was exactly why he had to stop replaying the mud moment with new and improved endings. They were perfectly fine as they were. It would be stupid to shake things up.

He followed her to the next table, keeping his eyes planted on the back of her head. She was wearing a short skirt, though. It was a toughie, especially when she bent slightly over the table and... It was a very short skirt. A little more and he could see what color underwear she had on. He leaned a hand on the table behind him, trying to look casual. He'd just lean to the left a little. No harm in a little peeking.

Of course, that was the moment she decided to turn. "Clark, do you think... What's wrong with you?"

He really should drag his eyes up. They were now on the front of her skirt. But there was just the tiniest sliver of skin there, just between the denim skirt and the red top. It was an old top. He'd seen it on her many times in high school. It was frayed along the bottom now. "Your shirt has a loose thread," he pointed out. Maybe that was why he couldn't tear his eyes away. He should rip it off for her. And while he was there...

"Oh... Well... I've had this thing since sophomore year, so..." Her hand moved to the hem, but he reached across, pulling her closer.

"I got it," he said lowly as she stumbled forward. He kept one hand on her wrist, letting the other drift across her waist to the thread. He didn't even have to look. He could just watch her slightly flushed face as his hand skimmed along that sliver of skin.

"Clark..." Her voice was shaky.

"Almost got it." He felt it between his fingers and pulled. But he didn't remove his hand, just moved it over to her hip, skimming his thumb along a soft little sliver there. "All gone."

She swallowed hard. "Thanks," she said, her voice slightly choked.

He smiled. "No problem."

She cleared her throat and stepped back, then glanced up at him. "Clark?"

"Yeah?"

She looked to her right. "You... uh... still have my wrist there."

"Oh, yeah." He shrugged and let it go.

She stared at him for a long time before she smiled suddenly, clapping her hands together. "So... What's here?" She stepped to the side, her eyes darting all over the table he'd been leaning on. She was flustered and pink down to her neckline. He wondered how far the pink went. "Think my dad wants a Planet Of The Apes waste basket?"

"Know what I think?" He stepped closer. She stiffened slightly, but he really wasn't going to let that stop him. "I think this is all old junk. We should go to the department store. Pick up a nice wallet."

"Well, a wallet's not really what I..."

"Then, we have a whole Saturday to..." He skimmed a hand up her arm. "Just do whatever." He'd love to do whatever. Especially if whatever involved all that soft, pink...

"Whatever?"

He stepped behind her. "Mmm-hmm." He moved her hair to the side. He wanted to find that sweet spot again. The one that made her tremble. He started to lower his lips to her neck as the fat guy behind the table watched with interest. He didn't care, really. Most action the poor guy saw in his entire adult life, if the Yoda T-shirt was anything to go by.

"Uh, Clark?"

He lifted his head slightly, a little annoyed. He couldn't find the damn spot if she broke his concentration. "What?"

"Your hand's on my butt."

"Is it?" He hadn't realized it. He had no objection, though.

"Could you move it?"

"Sure." He slid it down, letting his fingers graze the skin that met the bottom of that skirt.

"No... I mean... Uh..."

"What do you mean?" he murmured close to her ear.

She stiffened like a board against him. "That... Uh... How much is that?" She asked the fat guy.

He sputtered slightly, finally looking down at his table. Clark couldn't see what they were looking at. His eyes were busy down Chloe's shirt. There was more pink there.

"I don't know. Five bucks?"

Chloe dug in her pocket, jostling slightly against Clark. He didn't mind. The friction was very nice. In fact, if she'd just lean back a little more...

"There." She slapped her hand on the table and stepped to the side.

Clark smiled. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Stay back," Chloe said, turning to him and stepping backward between the long rows of tables. She stepped wrong, however, stumbling back slightly.

He rushed forward, catching her around the waist. "Careful," he said with a laugh. "Don't want to destroy the merchandise."

She straightened and pushed his hands away. "Actually, that's exactly what I want to do." She turned away, muttering to herself. He stayed hot on her heels. "Can't believe it... things have to just show up everywhere... In public... Of all the..."

He caught her arms, pulling her back against him as they neared the end of the tables. "What's the matter?" She should be happy. She bought something. Now they could go off and... whatever.

"Clark!" She pulled away again, then turned to him, hissing. "You were just groping my butt in a basement full of church ladies. What do you think is the matter?"

Clark shrugged. "It's a gropable butt. You're the one wearing a skirt." Seemed reasonable. It was really all her fault. He leaned in.

"Hey! I told you to stay back." She put a hand up. "Stay."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a dog, you know." She turned and started away. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere you can't follow," she threw over her shoulder before pushing at the door to the ladies' room.

"We'll see about that," he muttered before zooming in after her. He ended up in front of her.

She jumped about a foot. "Clark!" Something dropped to the tiled floor with a little clink. "Did you just use your powers in public?"

"Nobody was looking." He rushed to the door, flipping the lock. It was just a tiny bathroom. But it had potential. "And speaking of nobody looking..." He reached for her.

"No." She bent and picked up something from the floor. "Clark, I really don't have much resolve left," she said tightly. "You just keep your distance."

"I don't want to keep my distance," he said, circling her. "I want to do... whatever."

She let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah... Right about now, you would. That and rob a bank." She held out her hand. It was a charm bracelet. Except one of the charms was red and just a little glowy. "It's the red kryptonite. It's making you do things you'd never do. Just hold tight a second and I'll get rid of it." She moved toward the toilet.

He couldn't have that. He got there first, pulling her away. He had to find that spot first. Then she could forget all about flushing bracelets down toilets. "Chloe, you don't really want to do that," he said softly, taking her shoulders and walking her backwards to the door.

"Of course I don't, but... Yes, I do," she burst out suddenly. "I have to. Clark, this is..."

"Just give me a minute," he said, pressing her against the door. A minute might be just enough time to get her shaking. He leaned in quickly, before she could say anything else. If she talked, she'd miss out on all the fun. He latched on to that spot just under her ear as if it was sustenance. He just wanted her to tremble, wanted to know that she wanted this. And she did tremble.

_God,_ she did, nearly vibrating against him.

"Claaark," she moaned. "Stop. You have to..."

She trailed off, breathing heavily. That was good because he didn't have to. He didn't have to do anything but what felt good. And sucking hard on her neck while grinding her up against the door of the ladies' room felt damn good. He pressed in harder even as his mouth pulled away with a loud pop. "Come on, let's get out of..."

"Excuse me... Is someone in there?" a high pitched voice asked.

"Oh, Ida, be patient," a lower voice said. "Let people finish their business."

_Yeah, Ida,_ his mind shouted. _Some people are trying to finish their..._ Of course, whatever business he was trying to finish was immediately interrupted by the absence of a blonde. He glanced blankly at the door in front of him, then turned at a loud whooshing noise.

The toilet. Chloe had flushed the bracelet down the toilet. "Don't worry, Clark," she said, slightly out of breath. "I got rid of it."

Well, if that wasn't just... right.

Yes. Flushing the bracelet down the toilet was right. Whatever he'd been doing was absolutely wrong. Yes. Wrong.

"Um... Thanks?" he breathed, leaning against the door.

She bent over the toilet, staring hard into it. "I'm sure it's gone now." She straightened and turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Somehow, he knew disappointed wouldn't be the right answer. "Fine," he said, turning back to the door. Of course, he just had to look. "Oh, jeez!" There were two old ladies there. "Oh, jeez!" And one of them had a walker. "Oh, jeez!"

He felt Chloe's hands on his back. "It's over, Clark. It's fine. You didn't know what you were doing."

He wasn't sure about that. He knew exactly what he'd been trying to do. He might have succeeded if she hadn't flushed the damned...

"We just have to be more vigilant," she said, turning him to face her. She was still flushed and a little shaky.

"You okay?" he asked. Shaky had seemed like a good thing a minute ago, but now it seemed less reassuring somehow.

She nodded. "I'm fine. But I don't think I can take much more of this. I don't think I'll be able to say no again."

His entire body stiffened. "What?"

So did hers. "Uh... I don't think we'll be able to see snow again, winter being over and all for... five months. So... Yeah."

But he heard her right the first time. She couldn't say no again.

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

Was that an exaggeration or more of a promise? He hoped for the latter. Right now, he was perusing rows of baubles, bangles, and beads, just hoping for the latter.

He'd made up his mind. He was going in. What would happen after... Well, he'd leave that up to fate. Or to Chloe. But he couldn't just jump in to something like this. He needed a push. Some men used used alcohol. Liquid courage. He didn't have that option. The only drug he had was something shiny and red and fairly indestructible.

She couldn't say no again. He was willing to test that.

He saw it then, sparkling at him from the jeweler's case. He stabbed a finger at it. "How much?"

**More to come…**


	3. Chapter 3

_Big thanks to __**Harlequin Jade, CoolNick44, badkidoh**__, and __**kanahime-chan**__ for the reviews! This was kind of a fun fic to write, so I'm glad you're all enjoying it. _

**Chapter Three**

Chloe got the call at about seven pm on Monday. Clark needed her. He wouldn't say for what. In fact, he hung up before she could even ask for details. Then he didn't answer the phone again. So here she was, dragging a wheeling suitcase full of Kryptonian symbols and what she hoped was the right translations, her laptop, some binoculars and three tasers.

It was very last minute, of course. She wasn't quite sure what would be needed. She only hoped it wouldn't take long and that there would be a minimum of physical contact.

Those incidents with red kryptonite had really pushed her to the limit. She wasn't sure she could be within five feet of Clark right now. The last two times had been tough enough. It was as if they were being followed by little red rocks that made Clark... completely irresistible. In fact, she dared any girl to say no to a determined Kryptonian sucking on her neck. It was nearly impossible.

But she got through it. It said volumes about her strength and willpower and... possible stupidity, but still...

Luckily, they were meeting in the barn. If a red rock was going to pop up there, it would have done so before now. And, to be honest, she didn't want to be in the dorm right now. Lana was watching _A Walk to Remember_ for the eightieth time.

She moved through the large doorway. "Clark?"

"Um... Up here."

"Could you come down?" She glanced at her suitcase. "I could use some..."

"It's better if you just come up here," he called down.

She glared at the staircase. Shouldn't he have known she's have a large bag to lug along? She wheeled it to the stairs, making sure to make exaggerated grunting noises until she reached the top, letting the case fall over. "So what's the big... emergency," she finished, the last word falling from her mouth on a whisper.

Clark was crouched on the floor in front of an old steamer trunk. And Shirtless. The guy was shirtless. Was he deliberately trying to kill her?

Clark stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Hey."

Chloe just stared a moment. If she could resist jumping him in the flea market, she could resist it now. He hadn't even done anything, apart from appearing shirtless, the big jerk!

She let anger take over. "What is it? Because I dropped everything and here you are, unharmed." She glanced around, anywhere but at him. "Don't see anything green and life-threatening. Why exactly did I have to..."

He laughed slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. It wasn't exactly an emergency. I just was going through some old stuff and found something you might want."

She pursed her lips, trying to keep a long string of curses inside. "Oh, good," she finally said stiffly. "Because I rushed here like the devil was on my heels..."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean for you to..."

"Not to mention, lugging this damned case full of any possible thing that might save your ass should it need saving and you... You're strolling down memory lane! And without a shirt!"

"Uh... Well, I only..." He suddenly reached into the trunk, pulling out an old book. "Well, there was this copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and I wasn't sure if you'd read it and..."

"Of course I've read it," she shouted, still angry. "Any female over twelve has read it. Couldn't you have sped it over to me at the dorm instead of..."

"But this one's different. It..." He pulled the book open. There was a tiny clatter as something hit the floor. Chloe's eyes followed it. A pendant with something red...

Clark was suddenly behind her. "Chloe," he breathed into her ear. "Why would I bring it to the dorm? There's too many... people there."

People meaning roommates. Roommates meaning Lana. The thought of Lana and that damned awkward situation was almost enough to stop her from closing her eyes at the sensation... almost.

"Clark, you were… uh..." His hands started kneading her shoulders. "You were supposed to keep your eyes peeled."

"You're so tense," he whispered, stirring the hairs on her neck. "Is that my fault? Making you run over here? Should I make it better?"

"Well, it would be the least you could... No!" She moved out of reach and turned. "There's a..." She pointed down, her hand slightly shaky. "There's a red... red..."

He looked down. "Oh. Yeah. I see." He looked up again, smiling. "And here you are. Feel like saying no, Chloe?"

She felt a little like fainting. Twice was one thing, but a third time was just torture. She bent down quickly, her hand scrambling to pick it up. He was suddenly behind her, his hands on either side of her hips.

"Steady, there. Wouldn't want you to fall." His fingers slid down slightly.

Her hand finally grasped the pendant's chain. It took all her willpower, but she straightened quickly, whirling on him, holding it out slightly behind her. "Clark, you're not in your right mind."

He smiled. "I know. You drive me crazy." He glanced down. "Your jeans are tight. They must be really uncomfortable."

She held it further behind her, grasping it hard, trying to stop her mind from becoming the pile of goo her body was rapidly turning into. "I need to... think... how to..." She really did have something to say, but...

_Clark said I drive him crazy! Clark isn't wearing a shirt! Clark was touching my butt! Clark wants to have SEX with me!_

There was a teenage girl inside her somewhere, just screaming in both excitement and terror. She'd silenced her twice, but this third time was a real humdinger, especially when he was now directly in front of her - and so close she could feel his breath in her pores and see his pupils, black and huge, dilated so wide they nearly blocked out the blue.

_Wait a second_. Her own eyes widened. "Clark?"

He reached behind her, taking the hand with the pendant and pulling it toward him. "That's a pretty necklace, Chloe. Maybe you should put it on."

She stared harder at him. "Put it..."

He turned her around suddenly, pulling the necklace from her grasp and settling his hands about her shoulders. She felt the weight of the pendant between her breasts just before he turned her around. "There you go. Very nice." She felt like she was at the jeweler's getting the hard sell. Except he wasn't looking at the necklace. And as for what he was selling...

"Clark, what the hell are you trying to..." She shook her head. "I told you," she said, meeting his eyes. "I told you I couldn't say..."

"No?" He smirked and toyed with the pendant, brushing the inside of her breast with his knuckle. "Yeah," he whispered. "I'm kind of counting on that."

She pulled back, staring from his dark, bottomless eyes to his bare chest to his hand, still so softly bumping against her breast. "Well, you can't say I didn't warn you." With that, she pounced.

**More to come…**


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to __**CoolNick44, Harlequin Jade, kanahime-chan, **__and__** Nightwing 509**__ for the lovely reviews. _

**Chapter Four**

"Well, you can't say I didn't warn you."

Chloe launched herself at him with such force. If he were a weaker guy, he might have fallen backwards.

He wasn't complaining, of course. Not when there were so many soft things to grab. There were hips. Those were nice. There were breasts. He made a pass over those, too. After being left hard and alone twice, there was this sudden cloud of her around him, on him, all over him. It was hard to know what to grab first. He started by kissing back.

She tasted like coffee and Juicy Fruit gum. Not a likely combination, but she made it work somehow. He tried to pull her up just as she was pulling him down. He won, of course. It was a definite advantage, being super-strong. Another was that he could hold her up indefinitely, feeling all of her nicest bits just where he wanted them.

Her breasts rubbed right against his chest. Her bottom rested in his hands and, when her legs snaked around his waist, he could feel that fleeting warmth just under her jeans. He had to get them off!

She pushed away, leaning back even as he still held her up. "Clark, are you sure you..."

"Yeah. Sure," he broke in, lifting one hand away from her to pass between them under her arms, breaking their stiffness so he could pull her in again. He was sure. He was damn sure. How could he not be sure? He'd gotten this far.

There was nothing stopping him. There was no reason not to back towards the ratty couch. No reason not to fall on it, taking her with him. He winced at the slight crunching noise, then groaned at the feeling of her breasts bouncing slightly against his chin. If that wasn't a signal to bust them out of their prison, he didn't know what was.

He had free hands now. It was hard, taking them off the butt, but if it meant bare breasts, then he could survive it. He started to pull lightly at the neck of her shirt. Damn thing just wouldn't... He tugged harder, but she stopped him.

"Clark, it doesn't come off that way."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I knew that." He needed to calm down or he'd blow the whole thing. "I was just loosening it for you."

She stared hard at him, her lips pursed. "Clark, are you okay?"

"Me? Fine." He was horrified to hear his own voice, a high-pitched squeak. He cleared his throat quickly and tilted his head to the side, trying a smile "Just raring to go... Babe." _Did that sound sexy and confident?_ He hoped so. Because her yes could still change to a no and it damned sure would unless he played it cool.

She raised an eyebrow. "Babe?"

_Okay. Bad pet name. Just move on._ He leaned in, letting his lips brush over that spot under her ear. "Know what would be really hot?"

She shivered. _Yeah. That's the spot._ "What?" she asked, her voice barely even a whisper.

"If I could watch you take off all your clothes." Especially since he'd already proven inept at realizing that shirts come off over the head. In his state, he'd probably try to burn her pants off.

"Yeah?"

He bit lightly at the spot, gaining confidence when she shook against him again. "Yeah."

She pushed away and he felt a flash of panic, as if this would all end right now. She might slap his face and walk out. The slapping might not hurt, but the leaving might just kill him about now. His mind settled when she smiled, licking her lips.

She moved backwards and off his lap. "If that's what you want." Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt as she stood. She started to pull it up, revealing sweet, sweet skin. She stopped. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes. Want," he grunted, his eyes wide.

She stared at him for a long moment before pulling the shirt up and over her head.

_Bra. Red bra. Shiny._

He tore his eyes from the bra because her hands were moving to her pants. His mind was racing, wondering if the panties matched. _Please, God, let the panties match._ He wasn't sure if God answered the lust-fueled pleas of undersexed aliens. In a perfect world, He would. Then again, God was said to work in mysterious ways. He found that thought confirmed when she peeled the zipper down.

Not matching panties.

It was better than that.

_No panties._

He gripped the cushions on either side of him, only slightly distracted when his fingers tore through the faded red covers to foam batting. She stopped, her eyes wide and her jeans only halfway down her thighs. Now that _was _distracting.

"Please, don't..." He tried to relax. This was no time to beg. "Don't stop now," he drawled, angling for nonchalance, though he had the slight feeling he was coming off spastic. "It's just... getting good."

She frowned, standing before him in only her bra and half-in her jeans. "Clark, are you sure you don't want to talk or..."

"Talk?" He snorted. "Come on, why would I want to... talk?" Maybe because he was about to have sex with his best friend. Maybe because he was about to have sex at all. After only two sexual experiences, he was feeling a little insecure. And that wasn't how this was supposed to go down. He was supposed to be confident, draw her in, like before, until she couldn't say no. He wasn't supposed to be scared out of his wits. He took a deep breath. "I need to see you," he finally said, barely above a whisper. That much was true. He possibly needed it too much.

She tilted her head, then smiled slightly. "Okay, then." She pushed her jeans down, bending with the movement. She kicked off her shoes with them, leaving her only in white ankle socks and a red bra. It was strangely sexy, though incomplete and slightly silly.

He was seriously hoping the bra would be next, but she went for the socks. His eyes stayed on her toes for a moment. The nails were painted red. He saw the bra drop at her feet.

He closed his eyes, nearly afraid to look at the rest of her. Aside from the nearly crippling fear of this moment, there was the side hazard of him either frying her or squeezing her to death. He didn't think this would be so scary.

"Clark?"

He opened one eye just slightly. "Yeah?"

"You feeling okay?" She moved closer.

He closed his eyes again. He could do this. He'd been here twice now. It was no different.

He opened his eyes and leaned back on the couch. "Fine." He reached a hand toward her and tugged. She landed on his lap, all soft and bouncing slightly. He'd think that would be enough to get him over this. "I'm great. I just need a minute to..." _Calm down, relax, go find a __**real**__ piece of red..._

She touched the side of his face. "You're shaking."

"I am?"

"It's okay, Clark. I'm scared, too."

"You? You're not even a little..." He stopped, shaking his head, deepening his voice. "I'm not scared of sex. Scared that I'll be so good I'll… ruin other sex for you... maybe."

"Clark..." She breathed, chuckling, leaning her forehead against his. "Just give it up. You really are just awful at faking it."

**More to come…**

_That red-K faker! Why I outta…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much to __**badkidoh**__, __**CoolNick44, Nightwing 509**__, and __**kanahime-chan**__ for the continued reviews!_

_Here's where things get a little naughty. I really worked on toning it down from the original version as I've heard they've started to frown on sexy bits on this site. As I start archiving here, I'm hoping my stories don't get deleted, but should it happen, I'll try to tell you guys where else to read._

_In fact, if any of you want to know, feel free to pm me. _

**Chapter Four**

"Clark..." She breathed softly, leaning her forehead against his. "Just give it up. You really are just awful at faking it."

He opened one eye. "What do you mean fa..."

She pulled the pendant from her chest. "We both know this rock didn't come from that chest. It didn't come from outer space, for that matter. Just give, already."

"Well, that's just..." He sighed. The jig was up. It was over now. "How did you know?"

She pulled back, tracing a finger over his eyebrows. "It's all in the eyes." She smiled. "On red kryptonite, they kind of... flash."

"Yeah? I never knew..."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, I guess I never looked in a mirror when I was..."

"Why the act, Clark?" she clarified.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch. "I just... I mean... You said you couldn't say no again and I thought that maybe, if you were there and I was there and red kryptonite was there... You know. And then I couldn't find any red kryptonite and I figured as long as it was red, then..." He opened his eyes, but couldn't quite meet hers. "I guess... I wasn't sure you'd go along of it was just me."

"Just you?"

"Yeah. Just me. Stupid, awkward, nervous me." He shook his head. "On the red stuff, I'm... Well, I'm an asshole. But I'm confident and I can do things and say things that are all... take charge. Things I just... I can't do when I'm just me because... it's just... It's all too scary and I can't even get your shirt off and I'm so afraid you'll just laugh at me and..."

She did laugh, then.

"Like now, apparently," he groaned, closing his eyes again. "Jeez, I just..."

"No. Clark..." She giggled and he felt her hands on either side of his face. "Look at me."

He did, taking in her smile.

"Want to know why I couldn't say no?"

"I guess because the last two times kind of softened you up to the idea and..."

"Because I knew it was you. Just you." She smiled and leaned in to quickly peck his lips. "Putting on this big act just for me." She smiled wider and ran her hands down his chest, then up his sides. "It's why I still want to, you big goof." His lower anatomy caught on before his brain caught up.

"So you... You still want to..."

"I still really want to." She moved back slightly on his lap. Her hand moved to his fly.

He placed his own over it. "But aren't you scared?"

"Of you?" She shook her head. "I know you'd never hurt me."

He smiled goofily. "Well, of course I'd never hurt you, but... I mean... God!" he groaned. "This is all so much easier when I'm on something."

She shrugged. "I guess that's the thing about being under the influence. It makes things seem so much easier. But who says they have to be easy?" She ran her free hand down his cheek. "Clark, we're going to have sex. That is just big and scary. You're allowed to show it."

"Sure you wouldn't rather have sex with that other me? Because I can't guarantee that this me will be all smooth."

She giggled. "I like you better bumpy." She squeezed him through his jeans, her hand still under his.

"Yeah. Wow. That's just... yeah. You're so... Uh..."

She chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. "And you thought you weren't smooth," she whispered against his mouth. "You sweet-talker, you."

He picked her up, placing her below him on the couch. "Now you're laughing at me."

"Just a little." She grinned.

He found himself grinning, too. "I can't believe we're gonna do this."

"I can't believe you still have your pants on."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I'm totally naked."

"Yeah," Clark said on a whisper. "That's awesome."

"Clark..."

"Oh, yeah. Uh..." He stood and made quick work of them, actually kind of ripping them right off as she giggled from the couch. Didn't matter. He went with it. By the time his boxers followed, her laughter cut off abruptly. He turned a color that would put red K itself to shame as she stared endlessly, finally tilting her head to one side.

"Yeah... Um..." She waved a hand toward him. "Wow."

He wanted to say something about who was smooth now, but that same hand snaked out to touch him.

"Is this even gonna work?"

He madly wondered if she'd back out now. Maybe he'd hurt her, and not with the things foremost in his mind. "Do you think it's too..."

"Well, it's on the large side, but..."

He let out a startled sort of gurgle as her hand wrapped around him, pulling him to her with a look of wonder.

She peered at it. "Appearance-wise, it's about the same as any normal penis I've seen. I wonder, though..."

He found himself smiling. Somehow, he always knew Chloe Sullivan's big response would be one of curiosity... "Wait. What?" He pulled away... or tried. Her hand still gripped him and he was not ready to lose the contact completely. "How many penises have you seen?"

She looked up, but not at him. Her eyes searched the ceiling. "I guess... four?"

He felt strangely hurt. He supposed he had no right to. He had seen Lana's parts, after all. Well... no real close look at the lower ones. But he saw the breasts. They weren't breasts the way that Chloe's breasts were breasts, though, so he supposed he had some right to indignation. "Where did you see four penises?"

"Well, I saw one in an anatomy book when I was twelve, but that was more of a drawing. Then there were the guys in the locker room that time Lana tried to axe me and then there was this guy."

"This... guy?"

She didn't meet his eyes, just stared below, still gripping him in one hand. "This guy I kind of had sex with. It was nothing," she said in a rush, still staring at him. "Does it... do anything?"

He wanted to question her further on that first statement, but he could only hiss slightly as she moved her thumb over the tip. "I don't think so. I mean, nothing out of the ordinary. Um... so this guy..."

"We really don't need to talk about that right now." She stood, her hand still wrapped around him. "I think we maybe... don't need to talk."

He hissed in a breath. "Yeah. I hate talking."

She nodded. "Talking sucks."

And it was suddenly completely quiet. Just eyes staring into eyes, then running over flesh, then the eyes... then back to the flesh again because, really, they could look at eyes any time.

Chloe ran the hand that was not still gripping him from his belly button to his adam's apple. "You're so..."

He cupped her right breast, sliding his other hand to her hip. "No. You are."

And she was right. Talking did suck. There just wasn't a word that described this. Chloe's shuddering "Ungh" as he moved his thumb over her nipple came kind of close. It must mean something nice because she repeated it as his hand moved from her hip to her curls, feeling their crinkly texture, then digging into all that hot softness underneath. He wasn't a great judge of hot and cold, but her flesh was hot. It had to be. It made a slow burn creep its way up his hand to his arm, sending a chain reaction of heat through his body. He closed his eyes tight, not allowing that heat to release. And it exploded anyway, but deep inside, radiating throughout his entire body, squeezing out sweat as he stroked her, his breath coming faster.

Her breaths were even faster. Louder, too, when he swirled his finger around, finding a spot that made her squeak. He'd thought the spot that made her shiver was a find. This was better. If he could find this spot every day, it might not matter if he accomplished anything else. He finally opened his eyes, taking in her closed ones and her open mouth. She swayed backward and he reluctantly took the hand from her breast and moved it to her waist, squeezing, holding. He had the feeling he was on to something and...

She pulled away.

He would have been completely disappointed, except her hand was still gripping him, then... sliding. Her eyes bore into his as she squeezed, pulled, even twisted just a little. It seemed like she was on to something now. A half-smile touched her lips and he just wanted to kiss it right off her. He tried to. He got as far as leaning down when Chloe was suddenly all the way down.

On her knees and... Oh, God in heaven, he was going to really and truly die.

God help him if he died before she did it.

And then she did it. His eyes slid shut as her mouth surrounded him, completely, and then...

"Mmmffaah..." They were both full of great new words today. But if he wanted to assign any meaning to this word, it would herald something so good, it was terrible: The end.

_**Well, not the end of the story, but Clark has kind of prematurely ended things on his end. Just one more part to come…**_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for the lovely feedback on the last, __**badkidoh**__ and __**WindyWillow.**_

_Now for the disastrous finish…_

**Part Six**

He kept his eyes closed, wondering if he did it long enough, they could pretend that didn't happen. Maybe he should have taken care of a few things before she came over. It was a few minutes before he could speak. "Um... So..."

"It's... fine Clark," her voice was farther away. "Little messy, but fine."

He opened his eyes. She was by the couch, pulling a tissue from her jeans, wiping at her neck. "Chloe, that wasn't supposed to... I mean... You shouldn't take that as some kind of... Well, after those other times, I was probably a little..."

"Totally fine." She stood, tossing the tissue. "It was unexpected, but..."

"Oh, Jeez." He sighed and closed his eyes again. "I warned you I wouldn't be smooth." Of course, he didn't think he'd blow the whole thing, no pun intended, before it actually started.

He heard her bare feet on the creaky boards. "And I thought I made it clear you didn't have to be."

He opened one eye. She was smiling. That gave him the courage to open the other one. "But I could be. You just have to give me a chance to... "

"Didn't we agree that talking sucked?" She was kissing him. That was fine. But he'd kind of wanted to finish assuring her that he was going to make this absolutely bump-free from here on out before things started up again.

He pulled away. "Okay, let me just say that..."

"No." She pulled his head down.

_Fine._ She wasn't going to let him tell her, then he'd show her. She wanted kissing, he'd give her kissing. And not just her mouth. He backed her slowly toward the couch, still nipping at her lips. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled away, dipping her slightly back, staring at her breasts. He'd start with those. He bent quickly down and...

"Ow!"

He lifted his head. Chloe was rubbing her chin with one hand, the other was grasping his shoulder... for balance, apparently.

"God, Chloe." He set her more firmly on her feet. "I'm so sorry. I just..."

"It's fine. I see what you were going for and I'm all for it, so..." She stared expectantly up at him. Then looked pointedly at her own chest.

"Oh, yeah." He tried to just bend to them while she stood, but it just felt awkward with him being so tall and her being so short. "Screw it." He turned them around and fell back on the couch, taking her with him. He gazed with satisfaction at her lip-level breasts as she landed on his lap.

He looked up as she lifted her eyebrows. "Clark Kent, Sexual Innovator. I feel like I'm in very good hands."

"I'll show you good hands." He brought his own to her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her nipples.

She closed her eyes. "Mmm, show me."

He smiled as he leaned in. Her nipples were small and puckered, softening as he licked at them, then hardening again as he pulled at them with his lips. Her hands ran up his neck to tangle in his hair and he hummed against her. Things were smoother now. Maybe they started out a little bumpy, but he had good follow-through. And it seemed to be working. He could smell her arousal. He should taste her there, too. Fair was fair. His mother had always said... He stopped that cold, preferring not to think of his mother at a time like this.

He thought of Chloe instead, with her warm, soft body that was fairly writhing against him. He lifted his head, gripping her waist as he stood. "I'm gonna taste you, Chloe. I'm gonna make you feel so..."

"Wait, Clark. My foot's caught in the cushion."

He looked behind him. He'd created kind of a hole when he'd massacred the cushions before and her foot was deep in it. He'd have to turn them over so his mother didn't see... He really had to stop thinking about his mother. "Sorry." He took a hand off her waist and twisted backward. "Let me just..."

"No! Don't..."

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. Her foot was free, at least. He turned away from the couch. But she was kind of upside-down, her upper body on the floor while he still gripped the rest near his waist. He sat down again and pulled her up.

"Ow." She rubbed her head and stood, taking a step backward.

"I'm sorry. I thought you had a grip on me."

"It was kind of the other way around. You took your hand away and I went right down... at least the top half."

"You okay?"

She shook her head out, wincing slightly. "I'm fine." She moved closer again. "Besides, you did start to say something very interesting. You were gonna make feel so..." She stroked his hair. "Care to finish that?"

"Well, it wasn't that I was gonna make you feel so concussed. I'll tell you that. Chloe, I'm so sor..."

"You will be sorry, Clark Kent, if you don't make good." She looked down. "Come on now."

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am." _Maybe just... no more fancy moves_. He took her by the waist and stood, gently turning her so she could sit... very slowly. He knelt in front of her. "I haven't actually..."

"No more apologies, Clark." She leaned back. "I'm dying, here."

He ran his hands up her thighs. "I'm sor... um... something besides sorry," he finished lamely. What he was was hypnotized. He'd never had a real close look between a girl's legs. There was Lana, but the whole experience had been a little dim, as in dimly lit. Lana had a thing for soft lighting. This was sunset in a barn with a giant westward-facing window. There were no shadowy bits here.

He pulled her legs apart, peering closely at her.

"Clark..."

"You got to look."

She sighed and slumped backward. "Fair enough."

Lana had called it her flower. Little corny, but it was kind of flowerish... and pink... and moist. Very moist. He ran his finger along the edge and she shuddered.

"Clark..."

He leaned in closer, breathed her in.

"Oh, Jesus, Clark..."

He could take a hint. He ran his tongue along her slit, top to bottom, and one hand dug into his shoulder. He flicked it at the top and her other hand hit the couch cushion, sending more stuffing into the air. That was, apparently, the spot. He concentrated on it, licking and flicking, glad he'd finally got something right, until her moans grew breathier and the hand on his shoulder started weakening, gripping ineffectually as her body grew limp and then suddenly tightened. Rising up to him as she squeaked out his name.

He smiled and leaned his head on her sweaty thigh. He'd got it right. He'd made her... _Damn! _ He'd actually made her come. During, he'd been so focused on the task at hand. With it over, he realized that he'd _made her come!_ How cool was that?

Of course, this wasn't over. He raised his head, eyes boring into hers. "Chloe..." He cleared his throat as that was a little high-pitched than he was going for. He was hard as a rock again and there was no more room for errors. This was on. He gripped her knees. "I'm gonna f*ck you, Chloe."

She lifted her head from the back of the couch. "Hmm?"

"I'm gonna..."

"Oh, yeah. I heard you. Just a little... delayed." She stretched languorously. "I'm totally fine with that."

He pursed his lips. He was hoping for more of a reaction, something with wide eyes and heavy-breathing. "Good. You better be. Because I'm gonna..."

"Mmm, please do." She grinned lazily at him.

He huffed and stood, wanting something a little more dramatic from her. He was tyring to be intense and manly, here. "I will, then." He pounced, lowering himself to her with a crash... _Crash? That can't be right._

He lifted himself away from her. She was looking to either side of them. "You broke the couch."

He nodded sadly. Nothing ever went right.

"You broke the couch for _me_," she gasped, staring up at him.

"I know. I can fix it."

"Fix it later," Chloe growled, pushing him backwards.

_Oh... okay, then._

He got up, taking her with him, looking around. The floor didn't seem like the best place. And haystacks, while soft, were itchy and... "Desk," he panted, pulling her with him, sweeping everything off.

"God, yes!"

He stopped short of throwing her on it and placed her there more gently. He loomed over her as her legs slid up his thighs. She was so freaking beautiful. He wanted to cherish her or something. He wondered if he had time to put on something soft with lots of acoustic... Her hand reached to him, scratching down his nipple. "Uhhh..."

Cherishing had its time and place. He positioned himself over her. Her other hand gripped him hard. So did gentleness, apparently. He pushed her hand out of the way and slid in hard… then stopped, wondering if it was too hard. "Chloe…" He jolted as she tightened around him, nails digging into his hip. "Never mind."

He slid out, then pushed home again as she closed her eyes, moaning his name. He did it again, blood pounding through him, his ears ringing. He could hardly hear the desk creaking, just the sound of his name, over and over...

"Clark."

"Chloe."

"Clark..."

"Unh... Chloe."

"No. Clark. The desk... Ow!"

He stopped, his mouth hanging open. "Huh?"

She lifted her hips from the desk and his head swam. "God, I think I have splinters. When was the last time this thing was refinished?"

"Oh, Jesus." He dropped his head to her neck. "Maybe we should just..."

"Get a blanket," she breathed. "Just something to..."

He stood, holding her with him. Speeding to the broken couch and back with an afghan. He spread it, one-handed, over the desk with super human speed. It was actually one of his proudest moments, powers-wise. He held her, still inside her as her hand moved back to rub her bottom. He tightened the grip in his right and moved his left down to do it for her, rubbing over her nice, soft, apparently splintered, bottom. "Are you okay?"

Her legs rose higher and her muscles clenched him. "I'm fi... Oh!"

"Good." He didn't exactly have time for details. There was some kind of biological imperative at work and he needed be moving inside her again and now! He lowered her to the desk again and shoved in to the hilt - and then all hell broke loose.

He rose up, gripping her hips as she laid on the desk, shoving in, then out... repeating, shoving, pistoning, all manner of dirty sexy, thrusty things as her hands gripped the sides of the desk, then his arms, then the desk again and he really couldn't keep track anymore because his eyes were closing. His hips moved without any visual guide as she started moaning his name again, over and over. He opened his eyes, afraid he'd screwed it up somehow again, but her eyes were closed, her body going rigid. Tight, hot walls gripped him, clenching spasmodically. He sure hoped that meant she was coming. Whether she was or not, he was. Another quick thrust and he was done for, spilling into her, grunting over her, actually sweating, which was new.

He came to with his mouth in something wet and soft. The softness was between her breasts. As for the wet... He quickly opened his eyes and wiped his drool away before she opened her eyes.

They cracked open and he dropped his head again, afraid to face her. How long had that lasted? Must have been less than three minutes. And that was bad enough without the fact that he'd just started shoving into her again, without even considering her splinters. And he broke the couch. And he banged her up in a few million ways.

"Chloe," he breathed against her. "I'm such a... That was so..."

"Yeah," she panted. "Let's do it again."

He lifted his head. "Huh?"

She smiled and ran a hand over his neck. "I mean, if you want to. I probably shouldn't assume..."

Oh, she could assume. He sprang to life inside her again. "But... are you sure you want to... aren't you hurt?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, my chin still smarts, my head's throbbing, and I probably have some severe splinters in my butt, but..." She shrugged. "That's kind of the usual for a day hanging with you." She gave him a heated look. "Except I don't usually get a spectacular orgasm or two out of it."

"Yeah?" He found himself blushing. "Spectacular?"

"Mmmm. Very." Her knees slid up his hips.

"What's better than spectacular? Because I can do better." _God, can I do better than that._

"I don't know." She creased her brow. "Stupendous?" He moved slightly inside her and she shook. "Comatose?"

He shook his head. "Bite your tongue."

"You do it," she breathed.

He did, but gently, finding a goofy smile to match hers as he drew back. "This is gonna work."

She drew him down again. "I always suspected it might," she said against his mouth.

"Aren't you smart."

"Mm-hmm. Think of what we could do. My brains and your brute strength." She giggled as she glanced at the couch. "A lifetime supply of Bactine."

"We might make it through a whole other round," he finished, moving slowly inside her. "Maybe even without me screwing it up."

"Mmmm. Screw up all you want. You can always make it up to me."

**The End**


End file.
